Damsel in Distress
by Lady Of The Violins
Summary: Grell Sutcliff's life sucks, because everybody hates him. That's why he decides to put an end to it. But Undertaker wouldn't be our favorite mortician if he couldn't stop him, right? Rated T for attempted suicide.


**Hello, dear readers! That's my first Kuroshitsuji fanfic, I hope you enjoy. It's starts a little depressing, but that will be better soon.**

Damsel in Distress

His shoulders hurt after a long day of work when Grell came home to the flat he shared with Will. They had a flat-sharing community, not a relationship. Nobody would ever call the thing they had a relationship. At least not a normal one. It was...ah, you'll see.

"Grell! Finally! Where have you been all the time?"

"I'm sorry, Will. The list you gave me for today was very long and-"

"Do you want to complain, Grell?"

"N-No. Of course not."

"Good. Because it has been a long day for me too, I need you now."

Grell swallowed hard and hadn't even time to take a step back when Will's fist hit him at the jaw.

"Ah, that's good, isn't it?" Another punch, this time it hit his cheekbone. Then a kick into Grell's stomach. The small (wo)man fell onto the floor and squirmed in pain. The next kick was against his back.

"P-Please Will...stop..."

"Stop? But I just started!"

There was a loud crunch when Grell's rips broke and he screamed in pain. Will had never broken him any bones before.

"Will...stop. I...beg you", he stuttered under pain, but Will just laughed.

"Oh, why don't you move out? Then it would stop immediately. Ah, I forgot. I am the only one you have. Who would like to help a ridiculous, gender-confused, ugly Shinigami who would like to be a woman? Nobody likes you, fucking transvestite."

Grell howled when Will grabbed his chin, where a bruise was already forming.

"So be thankful that I allow you to share my flat. Or are you still hoping for a prince in a bright armor to come and save you? Somebody like your sweet Bassy?"

He laughed and pushed his glasses back onto his nose. And he was right.

Last week had been Valentine's Day and he had come to Phantomhive Manor with a self-made chocolate cake for Bassy, he'd heard that the demon butler liked chocolate.

He did indeed, but he didn't like the gender-confused, red-headed Shinigami who had made it for him. That's why he threw the cake onto the floor and insulted Grell, who had, of course, been shocked, and ran away, afraid to see Sebastian's eyes again.

"See? You need me, Sutcliff." He smiled, grabbed his Death Scythe, which was leaned to the wall in the hallway and bore it into the victim's throat. Blood trickled down and disappeared in his hair.

"I hope I made myself clear." One last kick and Will left the room.

Grell cough as his broken ribs pushed into his lungs. It wouldn't kill him, though. He stood up and grabbed onto the wall to not fall again. Will was in the living room, the feet on the table and reading a book when the smaller Shinigami opened the door and left the flat. He needed fresh air.

He walked – as fast as he could – for a few minutes, until he came to a bench and sat down. His bones were already healing.

There was he sitting now – alone on a bench in a small part of London. Since it was February, it was very cold and started to snow soon. Some of the snow flakes fell on Grell's red hair and soaked it after a few minutes.

What should he do now? He couldn't stand the abuse anymore, but he needed Will. He was totally right. Nobody would let him live with him. And his salary wasn't high enough to pay a flat himself – Will had made sure of that. He could ask Bassy, but he would just laugh at him and threw him out of the Manor. Maybe insulting him too. Grell was used to insulting, he had been called stupid, worthless, gender-confused or ugly his whole life. What didn't mean that it hurt less.

Hurt. Both physically and mentally.

And Grell was tired of it. Of his life full of reject and abuse. Tears felt down his cold cheeks and he wiped them away with the hem of his cloak.

He started to freeze in his thin cloak and his fingers shook when he pulled out his Death Scythe Scissors. Only a Death Scythe can kill a Shinigami, they say.

Will didn't know what a favor he'd done him by replacing the chainsaw with scissors. It would be much easier.

He stared at one of his wrists and ran a finger over it. Such thin skin between him and his goal.

Nobody loved him, he knew it. Madame Red had used him to kill these prostitutes, Sebastian and the brat only loathed him and Will...

Grell lowered one of the scissors to his wrist and touched it. A drop of blood appeared, these things were really sharp. Beautiful red blood, he had always adored it.

With a sad smile he pushed the blade deeper into his skin. A tear fell onto his arm and mixed blood and salty water.

"Don't do it", a voice in front of him said. Grell's eyes widened, but he lifted the scissor and looked into the darkness. A man with long silver hair and a black robe was standing there. Undertaker.

"What are you doing here?", Grell asked.

"Oh, I was just for a walk when I saw you sitting here and wondered what a lady was doing alone in a cold night."

Grell sighed and looked at the ground.

"You don't need to call me a lady. We both know I'm not. It's over anyway, I don't care anymore. So...could you go now? I want to be alone."

"And kill yourself? No, Grell. I won't permit that."

"Do I have to come with you first and try a few coffins? There's no need. I'm 5,8 feet and want a black coffin with red plush."

"That wasn't my intention. You see, I really like fitting people into my coffins, but...not you. Not another Shinigami. Why do you want to die anyway?"

Grell lifted his head so that Undertaker could see the bruises in his face for the first time.

"You want to know why I'm seeking the death? Because my life is horrible!" More tears streaked down his face.

"Everybody loathes me, there's no one who likes me even a bit. They think I'm disgusting, nothing but a crazed psych who would do everything to be a woman. And then..."

He touched his blue cheek gently. Undertaker eyed his face.

"Who did this to you?"

"None of your business."

"Huh." Undertaker took a closer step and then sat down next to Grell, who was still holding the scissor in his hands.

"I don't think you're disgusting."

"Lie! Nobody likes me. Nobody ever bothers to ask how I feel or what I'm doing. Will is right."

"Will? You mean William T. Spears? What does he have to do with the whole matter?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? I see. Grell...I don't want you to die. Doesn't that mean that I like you a bit?"

"Maybe. But that doesn't matter. My love hates me, I'm beaten up every day and if I tell anybody I'm losing my job and flat. Why should I keep on living?"

"That butler is an idiot for hating you. And your looks...so it _was_ William?"

"...yes..."

"I'm sorry. But I think I can help you. You know, being an ex-Shinigami has it's advantages."

"Then I would still loose my place to live. Honestly, who would like to live with a gender-confused, ridiculous reaper?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"You? But..."

"No, no. You come with me now, I have a nice beaker of tea and some biscuits for you. You can still kill yourself in a few days, when you don't like my hospitality."

Grell stared at him in disbelief. He had seen Undertaker just two or three times, but then always with a bright smile. Today, though, he seemed serious.

So he stood up and –

fell back immediately when his ribs pushed into his lungs again. Undertaker, who had already started walking, stopped and turned around at the gasp of pain.

"What's wrong, my lady?"

"My ribs..." The elder Shinigami came back and pressed a finger to the other one's chest.

"Ahh! What are you doing?!"

"Your ribs are broken. You shouldn't walk all the way." And a second later Grell was lifted up.

"Here we are. Home Sweet Home", Undertaker said and chuckled lowly – the first time since he met Grell that day, laying the redhead on a coffin.

"Wait there. I'll get you some things."

When he came back he was holding a beaker of hot tea, the urn with his famous biscuits, a blanket, alcohol and gauze bandages.

"I hope you like biscuits."

"It's alright, thank you."

"Fine. Then take out your shirt."

Grell stared at him, shocked.

"B-But..."

"I need to bandage you, calm down."

The red head chewed on his lip, but then slowly removed his vest and shirt, he was no real lady after all.

His slim chest was all blue because of the several bruises he carried.

"My, my. You look terrible if I dare say so", Undertaker murmured when he gently put the bandages around the small Shinigami. Grell winced when he touched his shoulder..

"I'm sorry, my lady. It's already done. Now I need to take care of that terrible wounds on your throat and wrist"

"Do you think that will leave a scar?"

"Ah, I don't know. Maybe you'll look like me." He burst into laughter at the face Grell made and tapped one finger on the scar on his throat.

"Just a joke, my lady. Besides you would be as pretty as ever."

"Ouch!", Grell screamed when the alcohol touched his wounds.

"I'm ready. You can dress. Although I wouldn't mind if you didn't, hehehe."

The redhead looked down at his chest – it wasn't exactly what you would call feminine, so Undertaker obviously just wanted to be polite.

He carefully tugged his shirt over his body and closed the buttons. Then he took one of the biscuits from the urn and cautiously tried it. It was better than expected.

"You like my biscuits? I make them myself. It's a special recipe."

"Special? Please tell me the farina isn't grounded bones." Undertaker chuckled again and looked at his long, black nails.

"It's not." Grell followed his glance and a thought came to his mind.

"Your nails...are you painting them or have they always been like that?"

"Ehehe, that's my secret. Anyway, you should go to sleep now, it's getting late and you really need to rest. You can take one of my coffins, whichever you like. I can't guarantee that it's empty, though."

"Thank you."

"Ah, and Grell? Please don't do something stupid tonight. I really don't want you to die."

"Alright. But..why? Why do you care about me? For nobody else does."

"You're amusing me more than anyone else...and I love your hair."

"Oh? You really do?"

"How could I not like such a wonderful red? Sleep well, my lady."

When Grell awoke the next morning, he was still lying in the coffin he'd chosen. Black, with red plush. Thankfully, he didn't have to remove a corpse first.

He opened the coffin and found the shop still covered in darkness, so it was still early.

What was Will doing right now? Sadness came to him again when he touched his face and felt the sharp pain. The scissors were still in his pocket...but no, had had promised his host that he wouldn't do it. So he tried to sidetrack himself.

"Undertaker!", he whispered after a while. No response.

"Undertaker!" This time louder. Still nothing. Grell sighed and climbed out of the coffin, not without cursing when his ribs protested.

He looked around the shop until he saw a rather creepy looking coffin leaned to the wall. Ah, perfect. He carefully opened it and found a sleeping Undertaker.

And Grell had to admit that Undertaker looked rather sweet when he was sleeping. His bangs were not in his face as usual and revealed how handsome and young he indeed was.

The younger Shinigami was about to wake him when he changed his mind. Undie hat been so kind to him, he deserved some sleep. So he just ran a finger over the man's scar and closed the coffin again and decided to make breakfast. What he couldn't see was the smile that spread across Undertaker's face in the darkness.

An hour later the scent of tea and eggs filled the room.

"My, my, that smells really good!" Grell jumped at the familiar voice, regretted it and blushed instead.

"Thank you. I hope you like eggs. I couldn't find anything to eat apart from biscuits, so I..._borrowed_ some from the house on the other side of the street."

Undertaker chuckled lowly and pulled out two plates from one of the cupboards. There was a thick layer of dust on it, so he wiped over it with the sleek of his robe. Better.

He nearly moaned when he took the first bite.

"That's delicious!"

"Well, I always cooked for William, so..." His eyes filled with tears again.

"Nah, nah, my lady. The eggs are already salty enough, so don't cry, huh? It doesn't suit you anyways. A pretty face like yours should carry a smile."

The corners of Grell's mouth curled up a bit."

"That's better, isn't it?

They ate in silence until Undertaker petted his stomach and leaned back, he hadn't eaten something so delicious for a while now. Having a woman – or at least a man acting like one – around was quite nice. Besides that poor thing needed him deeply, somebody who would not refuse and insult him but be polite and a good listener.  
Grell had had a hard time indeed, he remembered not only seeing not only blue bruises on his chest and body but older ones too. He would beat up William for that. How could he lay hand on a sensible, poor creature like Grell who had had already enough _mental_ pain?

"Undertaker? May I ask what you're going to do today?", his thought were interrupted by a feminine voice.  
"Oh, nothing special. There are two corpses waiting for me to take care of them, but as long as nobody dies today I won't have to do much. You can help me with my work, if you want."  
"Your work? I though you were just making coffins?"  
"Oh, my lady, that's just half of it! I wash the corpses too and make them pretty again. After I had my fun with them, of course."  
"Fun", he said dryly. Undertaker was having _fun_ with corpses? Well, he was creepy and Grell didn't have much decency, but corpses? Bah!  
"Yes! I dissect them, put their guts into my glasses; you know."  
Grell breathed out relieved. Dissecting was alright.  
"It's not like I have much to do anyway. I can't go to work and I'm not in the mood for pestering Bassy today."  
"You should stop this anyway", Undertaker said softly.  
"He doesn't deserve you, my lady. Grell."  
"But that's what I did my whole life: Annoying men who weren't interested in me."  
"And where did that bring you? I had to find you as you wanted to commit suicide! No, no, these man aren't good for you. You deserve somebody who truly loves you. Who would never hurt you."  
"And where should I find a man like that?" Undertaker smiled. Not one of his insane smiles, but a true one.  
"Sometimes the thing you seek for is nearer than you think."  
Grell looked up and blinked a few times.  
"Does that mean...?"  
"May I kiss you, my lady?"  
The red head nodded, disbelief still written on his face.  
And so Undertaker did.

**Ehehe, done! But I wrote a little sequel and could post it as a second chapter, if you want. Please review!**


End file.
